


Black Fireflies

by trispitas



Series: Heaven Doesn't Want Me [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bad Parenting, Baltimore, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt Neil Josten, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Neil Josten as Nathaniel Wesninski, Not Canon Compliant, POV Neil Josten, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trispitas/pseuds/trispitas
Summary: What if Mary had escaped without Nathaniel?What if he had stayed in Baltimore but without turning into Raven!Neil or Butcher!Neil?Prompt taken fromthis unsolved askon@aftgficrecon Tumblr
Relationships: Mary Hatford/Nathan Wesninski, Neil Josten & Nathan Wesninski
Series: Heaven Doesn't Want Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087022
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	1. Year Zero

**Author's Note:**

> The mini soundtrack that fueled this small series:  
> [Heaven](%E2%80%9D) by Blink-182  
> Broken Angel by Grouplove  
> Baltimore’s Fireflies by Woodkid  
> Who are you, really? by Mikky Ekko  
> Mother Tongue by Joshua Moss  
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ABRAM! ABRAM!”
> 
> There was only a door breaking Nathaniel apart from his mother, but he couldn’t reach it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heaven by Blink-182   
> Broken Angel by Grouplove   
> Baltimore’s Fireflies by Woodkid   
> Who are you, really? by Mikky Ekko   
> Mother Tongue by Joshua Moss

* * *

_How can your absence leave no trace?_   
_As I let you sink in Baltimore bay._

* * *

“Move” The savage pull at his hair jolted Nathaniel awake. 

Mary shoved him out of bed and hurried him to put his shoes on. Since Nathaniel could remember, they slept on their clothes, ready to race out from the house of Baltimore any moment, as it seemed they were doing then. 

Every single muscle in Nathaniel’s body screamed in pain. He had spent the whole day traveling to the biggest and darkest Exy court he had ever seen. He had played a brutal never-ending match against two older kids –Kevin and Riko- and after a violent scolding from his father, they had come back to the house. 

Nathaniel was definitely against waking up in the middle of the night to follow his mother. But he knew better than to protest, so he made his best to keep the fast pace Mary had while tiptoeing through the house. 

At some point, Mary put Nathaniel before her and kept scurrying through dark aisles until they reached the door leading to the Butcher's torture room. Nathaniel flinched away and crashed with his mother’s body. There must be a mistake. Except Mary was turning the knob to open the door. 

“Whatever happens. You never stop running and you never play Exy again. Do you understand?” 

Of course, Nathaniel didn’t understand. He nodded anyway. Mary approved the nod and pushed Nathaniel into the room. 

Fear crept from the tips of Nathaniel’s toes to the base of his neck like tiny spiders covering him completely. Of all the rooms in the house, that was the one he hated the most. Why would his mother take him there? Not even Mary punished him in that place. What has he done? 

“Hurry.” 

The windowless room was pitch dark. Nathaniel couldn’t even see the silver reflection from his father’s knives. The goosebumps along his arms only grew more. Nathaniel was afraid of tripping over, but at ten years old, he already knew that room like the back of his hand, just as Mary did. They advanced in total darkness. 

Mother and son were only a few feet away from the exit. 

Nathaniel felt the heat of a body even before he heard the voice. 

“The kid stays.” 

A single light was turned on from the back to let Nathaniel and Mary see the gleam of Patrick DiMaccio’s smile while he played casually with a big chef knife. 

In a second, Nathaniel was behind Mary. That wasn’t any better though. Lola and Romero Malcolm were at the entrance he had crossed with his mother moments ago. Too many knives. Nathaniel felt her mother shiver beside him as she passed an arm around his tiny body and pointed with a gun at the guys surrounding them. 

“You don’t want to shoot that, Mary. What will the neighbors say?” 

At the sight of his father, Nathaniel was trembling too. Why were all of them there? Why his mother was running now that he was finally allowed by his father to play Exy? 

He didn’t know what was his mistake now. He had played as best as he could against the other kids. He had stayed quiet during the trip. He had obeyed. He hadn’t done anything his father hadn’t allowed or ordered first. The memory of a hot iron on his arm was still too fresh to attempt any defiance against Nathan. 

His arm started prickling for no reason. The burn had healed long ago. 

But fear. 

Fear was spreading desperately through his whole body like a fatal decease while Mary’s grip on the gun was starting to fail. Nathaniel was going to be sick soon. He knew what would happen if his stomach rebelled now, so he tried to breathe deeply enough to make the taste of bile go back down. 

It was useless as Nathan approached them. 

“I’m taking him away. You have no right to-” A fierce slap shut up Mary’s complaints. 

“He is _my_ son too, and I will do as I please.” 

Mary spat blood directly to the Butcher’s shirt. “ You won’t.” 

The next moments were a blur of movement, noise, and terror. 

Gunshots resonated in the small room like cannonballs shot on the open sea. All of the Butcher’s men launched towards them. In a split second, Nathaniel ducked and ran in search of a hiding spot among Nathan’s multiple torture instruments. There wasn’t much place to hide. There was no way to become invisible. 

“Nathaniel, RUN!” His mother’s voice commanded from somewhere inside the tangle of limbs and knives. 

So, they were running away. 

It was easy for Nathaniel to know inside a court which way the players and the ball were going, and beat them all to deflect the shoot before it reached the goal. Making the same in a small room full of grownups fighting with weapons that Nathaniel knew firsthand what could cause him, was an entirely different mission. 

There was no time to think further about it. One of the Malcolm siblings had spotted Nathaniel and was going directly for him. The boy used his small size to his advantage and scurried away, attempting to reach the trap door leading outside. His mother was making her best to keep the way free for him. 

With trembling hands, Nathaniel was picking the lock of the door. Romero was closer. Something hit the man in the head and made him lunge at Mary. The short breathing room was enough to allow Nathaniel to open the door. 

In a blink, Mary was by his side, grabbed his hand, and got out. 

Nathaniel fell on his face as his hand slipped from his mother’s. There was something hot _hot_ ** _hot_** burning his legs, his back. Someone was pinning his ankles against the floor, and the door to freedom was shut. 

“ABRAM! ABRAM!” 

There was only a door breaking Nathaniel apart from his mother, but he couldn’t reach it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, see you in the next chapter!


	2. Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My poor boy :(

* * *

_What are the words that I'm supposed to say?_   
_[...] Through the silence of fireflies_

* * *

A year had passed since Mary escaped from Baltimore.

A year full of pain, and blood, and screams for Nathaniel.

He was only eleven, but his voice was nearly gone and his eyes carried the infinite hollowness of twelve months being punished endlessly for his mother’s rebellion. 

Now, Nathaniel was having the most wicked kind of déjà vu, traveling along with his father to the same dark stadium he had played last time he saw his mother. 

A sudden sliver of something resembling joy attempted to surge inside of Nathaniel. Then, he remembered what Mary had told him before everything went sideways. 

_Never stop running, never play_ _Exy_ _again._

The second order had been easy to fulfill; Nathaniel had spent most of his time crying in the torture room he seemed to never get out from. It wasn’t like playing Exy at all. Perhaps for his father and Lola, it brought the same happiness Nathaniel had once felt while holding a racquet in his hands, but there had been definitely not Exy at all. 

As for the first order, it had been impossible to deliver. With two bullets in each leg and another couple on his back, Nathaniel couldn’t have run, even if he tried. Also, he had always one of the Butcher’s men on his heels, whereas it was at the house, or following him at school, making sure he stayed put. As if Nathaniel could run with infected wounds piercing his body. It was hard enough to assure the teachers he was fine. 

Today, Nathaniel was expected to play a rematch with Kevin and Riko. He still didn’t understand how. He had a full collection of fresh and old wounds covering him from head to toe. The Butcher’s rage hadn’t had a limit in that year, and their men’s savagery made sure nothing healed properly. But Nathan had been clear: play well or die. 

_Die_ would’ve been Nathaniel’s first option if he only didn’t know how slow and painful it would be. It was that or disobeying his mother’s last command. The last thing she told him before _leaving_. 

Nathaniel had never felt so alone. 

*** 

The match against Riko and Kevin was even harder than the last. They were bigger, stronger, faster, and they didn’t seem to have been used as punching bags and knife testers for the past months. It was awful. 

The old man’s-they called him Master-cane on Nathaniel’s ribs wasn’t of any help either. Each and every time that Nathaniel fell, unable to keep going with his legs burning after so much time without exercise, the so-called Master would smash Nathaniel to the floor only to force him up and repeat the play again. 

Kevin’s face was shadowed by something like understanding, or petty. Riko was delighted with the show. Nathaniel was only begging for it to end. Go back to Baltimore’s torture. Be finished right there. Whatever. He just wanted it to be over. 

He only kept moving by the wonder of what his mother would be doing at that moment. If she was still alive. If she thought of him. If she would ever come back... 

“Are you having fun making me look like a fool, Junior?” 

Nathan’s venomous hiss brought Nathaniel back from his mind. They weren’t on the court anymore, but everything was still painted raven black. Nathaniel was pinned against a wall. Air escaping his lungs. He wanted so desperately to hung onto his father’s hands to release the pressure on his throat. He knew what would happen. Last time he almost lost a hand. He held on as best as he could. 

“Look at me you useless scumbag. Are you having fun with it?” 

“No.” The answer was more like the shape of his lips rather than a sound. He was choking. The little voice left was leaving him for good. Nathaniel already felt the blessing of passing out around the corner. However, he needed to stay awake. Losing consciousness only made it worse in the end. Instead, he focused on the exits around. A habit picked after twelve months wishing so hard he was somewhere else. 

“I have failed them twice because of you. Tomorrow will be your last chance. Do you remember that man we taught a lesson to the last time we were here?” Nathaniel nodded as best as he could with the strong hand strangling him. “That will be you tomorrow if you don’t play like you mean it, hear me, Junior?” 

Nathan didn’t wait for an answer. He only dropped Nathaniel to the floor and left after kicking him hard in the belly. 

Nathaniel had run out of tears a long ago. He let darkness swallow him in that same spot. 

*** 

Maybe it was late at night. Maybe it was dawn. No one had come to fetch Nathaniel for the next scrimmage on the court. 

He had been thinking about his mother. 

She never wanted him there. He still couldn’t understand why. No one spoke to him. But he was certain that his mother would have her reasons to be so afraid that an escape and a battle against the Butcher’s men had been worth it. Nathaniel was certain they had haunted and ended her that same night. Regardless, there was some stubborn hope that she would come back. But she wouldn’t find him while he was in that black palace. 

Nathaniel had thought he couldn’t run anymore. Today had been proof he was only out of practice. He was tired of being afraid. He didn’t want to feel the old man’s cane on his ribs for the rest of his life, or the Burcher’s knives on his skin anymore for that matter. 

He was leaving. 

The Butcher had taken the few belongings they brought with him. Nathaniel only had what he was wearing, his bruises, and his willingness to be free. Almost like his mother had. 

Despite the agony bolting through his battered body, Nathaniel managed to stand up from the corner where Nathan had threatened him and reached for the exit. Of course, the door was locked. He hoped the pieces of hard string he picked from his lent racquet would be as effective as the hairpins his mother taught him to use. 

After minutes of struggle, they were. 

The red lights of the hallway were disconcerting. Nathaniel was dizzy within only a few steps. The promise of a slow death made him advance. The fury of another hit from a cane fueled his steps. The fear of being used as an object when he could’ve been free beside his mother made his tired feet found the ground beneath to make him run until the exit. 

The building was a complicated maze Nathaniel hadn’t understood, but he remembered the way he had come with his father. He retraced the path backward until he could reach the final door. 

The door to freedom. 

This time, no DiMaccio was covering it. There was no Lola or Romero on his heels. 

He pushed the door open and ran for his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, see you in the final chapter!


	3. Year Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst. Sorry not sorry.

* * *

_For all the things I try to hide?_   
_What is my fate, am I supposed to pray?_

* * *

As if the handcuffs securing Nathaniel’s hands on the back of the seat and his ankles to the front weren’t enough, Nathan had taken along the Malcolm siblings to watch from behind. 

The Butcher was not repeating last year’s mistakes.

Six months had passed since the last time they went to Evermore and the memory was burning fresh for both  Wesninskis . Especially for Nathaniel.

It was either a miracle or a tragic disgrace that the boy was still alive and kicking. But there he was.  _ Never stop running, never play  _ _ Exy _ _ again. _

Although the pain had only increased as months went by, Nathaniel had tried his very best to outrun the Butcher and his men over and over. Consequences were always fatal, yet never mortal. Nathaniel discovered there was some kind of business going on between his father and the people behind the  Exy team he wanted Nathaniel to get in. 

That business going on was Nathan’s only reason for keeping Nathaniel alive, and denying his father the pleasure of an easy undertaking was the only reason keeping Nathaniel sane. Or as sane as anyone could be living under the  conditions he had endured the past years. His body had become a patchwork of scars, but he was more convinced than ever that he wasn’t going to turn into his father. Not even with that terrible smirk mocking Lola through the rear-view mirror as she entertained herself making tiny cuts in Nathaniel’s hands.

By the time they arrived at the stadium, Nathaniel had already memorized the way in and was paying close attention to every single door in and out despite the stung in his arms and hands. He had gotten used to living with pain, so this wasn’t any harder than a normal day in Baltimore.

The court was exactly as Nathaniel remembered. There was only a new addition. A boy around Riko’s age with a  _ 3 _ marked on the cheek, matching the numbers on the other kids’ faces. Nathaniel didn’t bother learning his name but was sure Riko and his uncle would be dying to put a number on him too. 

That wasn’t going to happen. 

Without any ceremonies, the match started. It was three against one. It was unfair. 

It wasn’t going to happen either.

As much as Nathaniel's hands still itched for having a racquet and slam a ball across a court, he had more than enough time to know that his mother had some reason behind her words. And he intended to honor them today. The match started and he didn’t move.

The old man’s cane hit hard over and over his ribs, his legs, his arms, his face. Nothing he hadn’t endured before. He received hit after hit after hit without moving, without reaching for his racquet. Without a scream. 

He felt every single attack while holding Kevin’s astonished gaze, Riko’s mocking laughter, and the other kid’s pure fear. Nathaniel didn’t move until his body went limp on the floor and everything turned black.

***

The year before, Nathaniel’s mistake had been running without a plan. 

He had a purpose, he had a goal, but he had no way to accomplish it with only a few scraps of strings to open doors. 

Nathaniel had been able to escape out of pure luck, but once outside, he didn’t know the surroundings. He didn’t know where to go. It had been only a matter of time for Nathan to find him and drag him back in the car, and then back to Baltimore in between  cursings and hits that made Nathaniel think it was a good idea to jump out of the moving car in the middle of the highway. It was  _ painful _ .

This time, Nathaniel had found enough time in between punishments and the butchering  lessons he despised, to research the place. 

He knew the campus of Edgar Allan University like he knew the feel of knives on his skin. So, when he woke up from the beating, he was ready for everything.

Nathaniel had been tucked in the same rooms as the boys. They seemed asleep. It was harder than he thought to get on his feet in silence. He crept to the door and took out a couple hairpins from his mother that he had found casually around the house months ago. He wasn’t using racquet strings unless it was necessary.

“Where do you think you are going?” Riko was standing behind Nathaniel. Hands clenched in fists ready for a fight.

“Far from your ugly face.” Kevin and the other boy flinched at Nathaniel’s bravado.

“You  mustn't talk like that to your king.”

“Didn’t know shit was royalty now. I’ll bow next time I go to the loo.”

The knock against the wall was harder than Nathaniel expected. It still wasn’t enough to erase his father’s deathly smile from his face. Riko was boiling in anger. Nathaniel waited until the last second to avoid the  fist coming his way and pushed Riko against the railing of a bed. 

The other boys were frozen at Nathaniel’s display of disrespect. 

He wasn’t a good fighter. He was used to be the victim among adults, but he had a rage building from the years since his mother left him and he was convinced of running away this time. Even so that he had a knife hidden on the back of his pants despite how much he hated them. 

Riko recovered quickly from the impact, but Nathaniel didn’t hesitate to slash whatever he could reach of the older boy, and a breath after he heard a heavy string of cursing directed to him, Nathaniel sped through the hallway on his way out. He dodged people attempting to grab him. He had become fast during his last six months trying to escape. He used the stolen knife more than he would’ve wanted, but it was that or being back to Baltimore in pieces.

Once outside the Nest, Nathaniel didn’t reach for the highway. Instead, he kept racing through the Edgar Allan campus. It was gigantic. Filled with students coming and going from classes. They glanced strangely at him as he made his way through hallways and  buildings he had only half-memorized through battered maps found at school and his father’s study.

It could’ve been a good fifteen minutes of running without a stop when Nathaniel finally found a public phone hidden enough from the stream of people. He took the few pennies he could get in those months and dialed the only phone number he knew by heart.

“Uncle Stuart? I need help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst goes on in the next part. 
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? Requests? Questions? Comment below and tell me what you want to read next :D 
> 
> You can find drawings and more AFTG / TRC on [@trispitas](https://www.instagram.com/trispitas/) and [@doodlingstuff](https://doodlingstuff.tumblr.com/).  
> See you there!


End file.
